


Oh, to face your beautiful wrath

by FlorBexter



Category: My Engineer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Frong is a compact bundle of sass and pettiness, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27528427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlorBexter/pseuds/FlorBexter
Summary: “I am. Not. Angry,” he all but hissed. The cup in his hand crunched ominously and Frong saw how Thara’s eyes glanced at it quickly. It made him want to throw the cup at him.
Relationships: Thara/Frong
Comments: 10
Kudos: 153





	Oh, to face your beautiful wrath

**Author's Note:**

> **For the tumblr prompt:** "Frong is hurt and he suffers in silence because Thara bro-zoned him, but one time, during their meeting he can't stay silent anymore and he tells Thara how he feels (more specifically, he yells)."

“Are you angry?”

Frong took a bite from the celery, enjoying the satisfying crunch and then trying not to gag. Who put a whole celery stick into a cocktail?

“I’m not angry,” he answered, turned around and tried to get rid of the celery without letting Thara know what he was about to do. It was his own fault for ordering this weird-ass cocktail but in fact, it was Thara’s fault because he had approached him at the bar and Frong had forgotten what he wanted to order. Everything was Thara’s fault and maybe he was already on his way of getting drunk because he thought about telling Thara that it was all his fault.

“Are you sure?”

“Sure… _bro_ ,” Frong made a peace sign and used the arrival of P’Win to make his escape from Thara’s second approach that night to talk to him.

He took a sip from his drink and made a face. There was enough alcohol in it, sure, but at what cost? He stumbled towards the cosy sitting areas of the student bar they had decided to go to and saw how his friend group had already mingled with Duen’s and P’Win’s which meant he wasn’t going to be able to avoid Thara for long.

Ugh, why did everybody get along? Where was the cliché university rivalry the tv dramas had promised him?

Lies, nothing but lies.

“P’Frong!”

He turned, a bit wobbly, and squinted at the girls waving at him.

Oh! Oh, he knew them! With a big smile he walked towards the girls who he had made friends with during the volunteer camp. They didn’t even have to invite him, he made himself home between them, sinking back into the soft cushion on the couch.

He liked them. They smelled nice, they included him in the group order of sour-fruity drinks, and he didn’t have to do anything but listen and nod while they talked about everything and everyone. He especially liked how they hyped each other up and yes, he looked fantastic in his petrol-coloured button-down, thank you very much.

And he had the perfect view of the table where Thara sat.

Bro-zoner.

_‘How are you doing’_ – writer.

‘ _What are you doing tonight’_ – messenger.

_‘Let’s meet up’_ – proposal…-ist?

And Frong had been good about it. He hadn’t ghosted Thara or had been mean to him. He hadn’t acted like it was his fault for not liking Frong… that way.

It wasn’t his fault but couldn’t have a man some basic empathy? Couldn’t he, magically, understand why Frong wanted a bit of distance between them? They had gone on a freaking bicycle tour for heaven’s sake. With a picnic. It had been idyllic; it had been romantic and Frong had wanted to pour the Cha Yen over Thara’s head.

Now they were here again and Frong suffered in silence and just wanted to get drunk in peace to nurse a headache the next day, so he was able to pretend like everything was peachy between them when they saw each other again.

Which was right the next freaking day!

Frong groaned into the Iced Americano in front of him. Drunk-Frong made the worst decisions. The next time he was going to put a sign around his neck which said: ‘Everything I promise this evening is not going to happen.’

“Are you alright?”

Frong continued to stare in his coffee. He wasn’t able to meet Thara’s concerned face so early in the morning, next thing you know he was going to smile at you.

“Do you need paracetamol?” There was a teasing lit in Thara’s voice and yay they had an insider-joke but Frong just wanted to growl.

Who volunteered at seven am in the morning? Also, why was everyone so obsessed with volunteering all of a sudden? They could have repaired and painted the fence of the kindergarten every other day!

“I’m good,” he said and waved weakly. Thara wouldn’t leave his side if he wasn’t going to show him that everything was fine, so he forced his aching body to leave the shadowy place under the big tree and slouched towards the rest of the group where Duen arranged the duties and if Bohn wasn’t such a feral cat Frong would have kissed him for getting the job as ‘overseer’.

Maybe the XXL cup of coffee, the big sunglasses, and the shirt he had already worn yesterday didn’t make the best impression of him being able to handle a brush today.

Which was fine by him.

What wasn’t fine was that Thara found him in every spot he disappeared to for some peace and quiet. Yes, the kindergarten wasn’t that big but had the man a Frong-radar?

“You should drink something else than coffee,” Thara said this time and Frong, sitting on a miniature chair, rattled with his cup.

“It’s mostly ice cubes now.”

Was now the time when Thara would force-feed him a paracetamol? He had a weird twinkle in his eyes that told Frong he was on thin ice with Thara’s patience. Maybe not being able to doctor Frong around grated on Thara’s nerves.

Good.

Frong put the sunglasses back on his nose because the more time he spent with Thara alone the higher the chance Thara wanted to talk to him about serious stuff.

“I should go back and do my job as the overseer.”

“Boss is doing your job at the moment. But it feels like everyone is ready to stage a revolt soon.”

“Even more important to go and do my job.”

“Frong.”

Ugh.

Frong half-turned, his feet rooted to the spot, his heart already begging for Thara to just drop it. Who would have thought that them being bros included heart-to-heart conversations? Which was a wasted question to ask because all of this had started because Frong had felt secure enough, seen enough, to have heart-to-heart conversations. When had been the last time he had told someone about his dad?

“Frong,” Thara repeated as if he had asked a question. Should he just magically know what he wanted from him? Which he knew. And Thara knew that he knew.

It didn’t make Frong more willing to tell Thara what was going on.

Thara just looked at him and for all that he was silent, he was incredible loud about it.

“You’re angry with me.”

“I’m not angry,” Frong denied immediately.

“You are,” Thara said and did that thing where he raised his arms and showed Frong his palms as if to pacify him and Frong pressed his teeth together.

“I am. Not. Angry,” he all but hissed. The cup in his hand crunched ominously and Frong saw how Thara’s eyes glanced at it quickly. It made him want to throw the cup at him.

He felt gross and sweaty and there was a suspicious spot at the collar of his button-down and he had no idea how to say no to Thara and he had enough of this day and—

“You can tell me ev—”

“NO, I CAN’T!”, Frong yelled and almost threw the cup against the wall full of colourful pictures of trees and fruits.

“I CAN’T TELL YOU SHIT BECAUSE YOU THINK WE ARE BRO’S AND I THOUGHT THERE WAS SOMETHING ELSE BETWEEN US AND I CAN’T TELL YOU HOW MUCH THAT HURTS WHEN YOU WANT TO SEE ME ALL THE TIME AND ACT LIKE WE’RE BEST FRIENDS!”

Silence. Only broken by Frong’s heavy breathing.

Oh god, he thought. Oh god, he had said that. He had said that. And he couldn’t look nor walk away. He was frozen but felt like he would start to shake soon. He breathed like he had run a marathon and stared at Thara who stared back at him, wide-eyed and Thara opened his mouth and Frong didn’t want to hear anything he had to say but he couldn’t move and words left Thara’s mouth. 

“You are in love with Duen,” Thara said.

“I’m… what?” Frong’s anger was replaced by confusion so suddenly he felt like a ton of bricks had hit him at once. But the scene didn’t change. Thara still stood in front of him and the words he had said hovered between them, almost tangible, like the words of affirmation on the wall.

_Be kind, raise your hand, let others speak._

“You are in love with Duen,” Thara repeated and then he frowned and maybe he finally realized that something was not fitting together.

“I’m not in love with Duen,” Frong said and then had to backtrack, “I had a crush on him, yes, but that’s not… that’s totally different to… Why would I explicitly ask you to come to the camp too if I wanted Duen at that point? I went there with people I met either recently or who weren’t in my friend group.”

He got loud again.

“I could have forced my friends to come too, but I didn’t, you idiot! I asked you! I practically begged you to come on the trip with me! So, I could be with you on that trip! WITH YOU!”

“Ehm… guys?”

Frong spun around. Boss stood in the door looking at them with a pained face and playing nervously with his fingers.

“Are you two okay? We heard some yelling, and I pulled the short stick so I’m here to—”

But he was cut short by Thara who was on the door in a few long strides, pushed Boss back and closed the door on his startled face. Frong saw how he took a deep breath, the tension in his back visible and then he turned around and Frong instinctively wanted to take a step back. He didn’t know that face on Thara.

“You are not in love with Duen?”, Thara asked again and for all his bravery a few minutes ago Frong felt suddenly shy. He had confessed, hadn’t he?

He shook his head. It wasn’t like he could take his words back and even though Boss had been vague about the others and him hearing some ‘yelling’ Frong was sure that at least Bohn had already memorized what he had yelled at Thara.

There was no turning back.

“I’m not,” he said and swallowed nervously, “not with Duen.”

And he had no idea what he expected. All the situations he had played in his mind about him confessing his feelings hadn’t covered him yelling them at Thara.

And Thara. Thara looked at him and his eyes seemed darker and Frong realized that he never had seen him devoid of the little smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. Frong felt like he should make a joke, say something to lighten the mood but he couldn’t, he could only look back at Thara and then Thara let out a huge breath and leaned his head back, bumping it slightly against the door, the arch of his neck prominent, the swallow, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple and Frong’s mouth got dry.

“Come here,” Thara said suddenly and held his arm out, his head still rested back on the door and when Frong took more time than he apparently anticipated he moved his head back and repeated himself.

“Come here.”

Frong’s breath hitched. But his body moved on his own and he took Thara’s hand and the pull was strong and firm and made him let go of the cup, which crashed to the ground, but he was already against Thara’s body and Thara cupped his head and they fell against the door, a dull sound and Thara captures his surprised sound with his lips.

Frong fell into the kiss as if they had kissed a thousand times before. Frong had never felt claimed by a kiss, had never felt owned, but this was how he wanted to feel while being kissed he realized.

They parted, slowly, and Thara’s hands wouldn’t let him go far, the distance between them only centimetres.

“P’”, Frong murmured, a bit whiny and Thara smiled at him, a bit like Frong knew it, a bit like someone completely different and kissed him again.

**end.**


End file.
